The Black Rosebud
by Lady-of-chocolate
Summary: The Phantom's lover jaquelin is with child, and is leaving Erik to go raise the baby until it is no longer an infant, and is ready for the Opera house life. Erik x OC CONTAINS CHRISTINExRAOUL BASHING! better than it sounds.
1. When we've said goodbye

**Title:** The black rosebud

**Personal Category:** Phantom of the Opera ( proper endings )

M rating for later chapters.

Based primarily off of ALW's Phantom of the Opera, with some Kay elements.

**Note: This story takes place 4 years post 'Christine incident'. Flashbacks will explain the story of how Jaquelin and Erik met and became a couple through flashbacks in later chapters.**

**Contains extreme Christine x Raoul bashing!**

**~ My very first Fanfic. 3 ~  
**

"_Let my Opera Begin!_" **- Erik**

* * *

" It will feel like an eternity."

" For me as well, Erik..."

She placed a single, satin gloved hand against his chest, sheathed in a dark-coloured vest.

" It will make our reunion all the sweeter...Think of me, think of me fondly-"

" When we've said goodbye..." Erik finished quietly, twisting her hand gently towards his face and holding it against the smooth skin of the left side. Jaquelin stretched up onto her toes, to place a last, lingering kiss upon his lips, then she turned suddenly away before he could even lean into her.

She was gone.

Erik gritted his teeth and looked at the cold stone floor, clutching his head with both hands. How was he going to survive without his Jaquelin? Turning from the edge of the lake, from which she had disappeared so suddenly, he returned to the house, not slamming the door, but leaving it open. He wandered throughout the house, seeing upon the walls the many pieces of art dedicated to the both of them. One she had drawn of him, sitting at his organ, his white shirt open and careless. Another, one of her, stretched out across the swan bed; stomach bare and dress pooled at her chest, her lower legs covered with the velvet sheets. Then, at the end of the hall, partially hidden behind a vase of dried red roses, a faint sketch of Jaquelin's left hand covering the ruined, grotesque side of his face. He grimaced when he saw that picture, and passed on, self consciously rubbing the white porcelain mask that covered the hideously deformed side of his face. Jaquelin had never found his deformity off-putting...not even once. It baffled him. She must have been insane...but he didn't mind. They could be crazy together. He reached his bedroom door- their, bedroom door, and stopped. He couldn't face it.

Jaquelin had shared his bed, knowing the consequences of such a choice. Now they were separated, for so many long years! Erik moaned with despair and leaned against the dark wall, sliding down to sit with a thump at the base. He sobbed, leaning his face into his knee. No...it was too much to bear!

* * *

Madame Giry cringed when she heard, once again, the sorrowful notes of the organ, pouring faintly into her bedroom from so far down...Erik was in one of his fits again. It had been a year since her daughter meg had left the Opera house with Lady Jaquelin, to help her with the coming child. It had been decided among both herself, Erik, Meg, and of course Jaquelin, to wait until the child was no longer an infant to bring it back to the Opera house to live in the caverns far below the ground. The Phantom had not taken it well at all. Once again, he raged with loneliness; Madame Giry knew what a joy Jaquelin had been to him. Perhaps the only woman to ever gaze upon his deformity with love, not disgust. The ballet instructor sighed and turned over in her bed, trying once again to be claimed by sleep.

* * *

It cut her so deeply.

To leave her love, her Erik...her dark angel behind whilst she journeyed to the countryside to raise her baby into a youngling before the man in the mask even knew the gender of the little one...

Jaquelin stroked her belly, which had not yet become rotund. She had discontinued the use of her corset already though. She did not want any stress. The carriage rocked violently, and she almost gagged. Meg took her hand and leaned her other against the woman's cheek. Jaquelin smiled at the slightly younger woman who had agreed to journey with her. Meg had been a friend to both her and Erik since the days of Christine Daae. The name turned her insides sour even if she only thought of it. Who could resist the irresistible? To elope with some rich vicomte? Ugh... She turned to the window of the ornate black Opera house carriage with a sneer.

" Christine Daae...ha!" She closed her eyes and counted to ten. Meg did not like to hear her criticize Christine...but Jaquelin couldn't help it. Even if the former soprano singer had led her to the love of her life...it had been at great expense to him. He had wallowed for years in pain, before she herself had arrived, a curious girl who knew nothing of the world. Jaquelin touched the black mask that hid the top half of her face. It had been the mask that she had found the first day at the Opera Populaire...the same one that her Erik had worn during that first performance of Don Juan Triumphant. Jaquelin smiled reassuringly at meg, who smiled and resumed her sewing. She was embroidering tiny leaves onto the corner of a cloth diaper. Jaquelin smiled, knowing that at least her baby would be in the very best of hands. Erik had insisted that the child of the Phantom of the Opera, would have all the best of everything. The most high tech of diapers...the softest blankets...even one of the best nurses. The nurse was riding with the coachman, as the very spacious carriage was already filled with things that would be needed to accommodate the child. There was a simple black carriage following behind with more gear. Every one in the procession was sworn to absolute secrecy by pain of death, courtesy of the Opera ghost. Oh how Jaquelin adored her love. The carriage gave another lurch and Jaquelin smiled and laughed a little, a curl escaping from the simple up-do it was held in. Madame Giry had told her that she possessed the kind of beauty that no birth or strife could ever abolish. The thing that worried both Jaquelin and Erik was...

Would it be the same for their child?

* * *

Please r & r!


	2. Simply unbearable

**EDIT::** This is for those who thought there should have been more between the two chapters I had up before. Enjoy!

**Erik:**...Yes, I hope you all enjoy my suffering.

**Me:** *stares* ...Emo.

* * *

The house was silent. It's mistress, absent. Erik had taken to stalking the boxes and the catwalk above the stage in his spare time, to avoid the desolation of his subterranean home.

" Damn that woman..." He cursed silently to himself, attacked by a particularly devastating vision of her blonde hair, shining in the footlights as he watched, proudly above her. He turned with a flare of his favourite dark cloak , hurrying away to tr and escape the horrible visions. Sometimes he became so angry with his love, that he considered burning her pictures and various effigies in frustration. She said she would never leave him! She said...she _promised_...

He found himself below again in a matter of minutes, courtesy of one of his many escape routes. No, she loved him. He didn't think he would survive if he let go of that solitary hope, and single blessed fact. In two years , they would...

Two years.

The masked man saddled Caesar, and rode him hard into the black back streets of Paris, toward the country side. Jaquelin would be a little over eight months pregnant now, hopefully glowing with the same radiance as usual, now intensified with the joy of her condition. That's what she said she felt, the moment Mme Giry told her she was pregnant with his child. HIS child! His little joy...he began thinking of it again.

The little one, growing inside the woman he adored with all his heart. Oh how he feared for it's face! How he feared that it would inherit his...affliction...

He rode the horse fast for an hour, stopping to rest it. But before long, they were quickly approaching the large stone house, concealed by grass and a dark, old forest. He dismounted swiftly, looking up at the windows. Suddenly, the door opened and a small blonde woman stepped out.

"...and Jaquelin, for god's sake put that rag down! You should be re-" Her words were cut short when she saw Erik, standing beside an exhausted Ceasar . Meg Giry's eyes widened, and she called out quickly.

" JAQUELIN!"

Nothing really could have prepared him for this meeting, nothing could have made it less painful, yet gleeful at the same time.

" Yes what is it Meg?" Her voice was quiet, but no less like that of a true angel. Jaquelin's wild blonde curls were loose, and her dress was designed specifically for maternity. But seeing her in that pale blue dress only reminded Erik of her favourite ballgown, the one that he had sometimes taken to sleeping with to fill the emptiness he felt without her during the long nights.

Erik was behind her in moments, warpping his arms ever so delicately around her body. She didn't say anything, but Meg disappeared back into the house. Then, there was nothing but the silence of nature around them. Jaquelin began to hum something, a lullaby. It was one that he had hummed to her , to lull her to sleep at night after the traumatizing events of her last days as the manager's daughter. Eventually, they moved slowly into a quiet, warm drawing room, and Jaquelin turned to face him, removing his mask slowly. Her fingers gently explored the planes of his chest, concealed under his clothes, causing him to tilt his head back and sigh weakly. But it didn't stay tilted for long.

When Erik felt her hands sliding up his bare skin, he leaned down and sought her lips. They were even softer than he remembered, but she still moaned longingly when he broke apart from her, moving around to her back and pressing himself against her warm form.

"Erik..." Her head turned to the side and she kissed him with more urgency than before, reaching a hand behind her to grasp his neck with it.

" Lord woman. What have you done to me?" It was a phrase that Erik said to her often. Smiling, Jaquelin chuckled warmly, a sound that constantly sent shivers skittering down his spine like so many spiders.

" Shouldn't I be asking you that question? Of course, I clearly know what it is . No, we did this together." She searched out his hand, and brought it to rest on her stomach.

" Sing something for me my love." She whispered, sighing.

So he did. It was rare that Erik sang things from the past, things that Jaquelin had forced to his mind from his days with Christine. But now, he felt sentimental.

"...Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime..." When he sang, he felt her quiver and melt against him as always, but something else happened. Her stomach twitched violently, and she gasped, then laughed breathlessly.

" Our child knows your voice." Erik was stunned, but he managed to bring another shaking hand around to caress the swell of her belly. Jaquelin placed both her hands over his, holding them steady.

"...I've lead you, saved you from your solitude..." His blonde angel sang back to him, in the voice so ground shatteringly magnificent and sweet, that she had brought hundreds of men to their knees in shaking, gibbering awe.

" It's been so long." His voice shook. When she moved her hand to her side, it brushed his leg and sent a shock wave running through his body. It had always confounded Erik, how a single touch from her could make him want to ravage her so completely.

" Be patient Erik." He looked away, embarrassed a little. She felt how aroused he was, just from that single touch.

" Some time starved of my body will make your appreciation for it stronger." She said, before he growled in frustration.

" That's ridiculous. I already can't keep my eyes or hands off of you." She grinned and pulled out of his arms. He let her go for a second then stepped forward and trapped her again, crushing her to his chest, inhaling her scent. Jaquelin could feel something in that embrace, the same kind of possessive power that he had shown when he had first grabbed her to hold her tightly, more or less against her will.

-flashback-

* * *

The blonde singer panted and gasped for breath as she sprinted down the halls, throwing open door after door, and flinching at every spot of darkness she noticed. Antoine was dead, and merely hours after he had forced a kiss upon her, and tried more? No, it was far too much of a coincidence...he had been drunk...he hadn't been able to control himself...

Finally, Jaquelin reached a small wooden door, that lead to the roof of the opera house. Her cheeks were slick with tears, and the stays of her dress were completely loose. Her slippers were abused, and her hair was wild. The cool night air of autumn grasped at her skin, as she hurried to the feet of a statue of a lion. Somehow, it seemed like it would protect her. Her mind had been twisted, in complete turmoil. That voice...the mentor and perhaps lover of her's, that she had trusted so completely...the one she hadn't once tried to force anything upon. The one whom she had admired, and relied upon.

How could he do something like this?

She sobbed fearfully. Surely he would come for her. She turned towards the door to watch for him, but he was already standing mere feet behind her, looking down with an unfathomable expression. She got to her feet, eyes wide.

" You..." She stumbled backwards, trying to weave her way towards the door, all the while he was simply watching her.

" How could you..." Her voice was shaky and low, and would break the heart of any male...except for the one who had created it.

" It was high time you knew the truth about the deeds I have done in the past, and what I am capable of if antagonized." She choked on her next words. He had done it before? She tried to bolt to the door, but he was on her in seconds, wrapping his arms around her and engulfing her in the dark swirl of his cloak.

" My dear...I am still the man you knew." He whispered in her ear, his voice flat but she couldn't miss the anger...or the pleading.

" Not a man. A phantom." She spat, kicking back towards one of his kneecaps. She was on her back in the blink of an eye, wrestled to the ground and pinned there by his body.

" No..." She screamed for help, and closed her eyes, crying. He was shaking with anger and sadness and fear. He could not loose her. Why would she do this to him? Why wasn't he more deserving of such a creature? One of his hands slipped up to cover her mouth. Jaquelin's body was engulfed in flames, of hatred but also the harsh pang of desire. She was now touching more of him than she ever had. His lips were inches from her own, but he was a murderer. She struggled again, screaming behind his hand as he just stared blankly down at her. But Jaquelin had become more cunning as a result of his...courtship?...and knew what she had to do. She sobbed and relaxed her body. She knew he wasn't stupid enough to let up; he had seen her exert far more power and stamina. But he did relax enough for her to open her eyes and stare into the vast expanse of his green. His hand went slack over her mouth and she turned her head slowly, then brought her lips rapidly towards his. He froze and stiffened in complete shock, as she kissed him with all the fury, all the hatred she now harboured for him. She bit at him, savaging his lips until his mouth opened and her tongue took over the assault. She moaned quietly, stirring his breathing and heartbeat, as well as her own. Her hands, no longer trapped, felt down his back, causing him to shiver against her and moan as well. His moans were indescribably delicious...they were the prime of his seductive sounds. They were raw. Jaquelin continued to throw herself into the kiss, pressing her body into his, and making a subtle shift that would roll them over so she was atop him. He allowed this, but only a moment later realized his mistake. Too late. Jaquelin secured herself between his legs, wrapped her arms around his and hooked her jaw over his shoulder. She saw his utter disbelief at being tricked so, and she smirked in anger.

" Remember this, _phantom._" She pressed her knee harshly to his groin until she heard his hiss.

" I will NOT, be bullied." Jaquelin shoved him to the side as she stood, glaring daggers at him from above as she turned in a huff, and left the roof, Erik staring after her in a mixture of confusion, agony, loss, fury, and disbelief.

* * *

-end flashback-

That wasn't like this. She enjoyed this possessiveness. It made her feel safe, and the child stirring within her would know the same happiness she was sure.

* * *

**r&r lovelies! ~ Lady of Chocolate**


	3. Her name is Evangeline

Erik wandered the halls of the Opera, keeping to the shadows and out of sight, in his unearthly way. Ever since Jaquelin's departure, he had not been able to compose anything. Any piece of art he started turned out an angry scrawl across the paper or canvas. The house seemed cold and hollow without her laugh, her song, her golden hair and pristine countenance. He had not felt like this since Christine left him

Christine.

Whenever he said her name, that was all it was. A name. A pretty little name for a pretty little face. He didn't have enough love in his heart to long for her, it was all over-occupied with mourning the temporary loss of his Jaquelin. His angel of the night and day. How he longed to feel her warm touch once again...but her voice would not be the only one in the house when she returned. Their child, their precious child...would he love it? Would they both serenade it to sleep? Would his life be brighter than it was before? Was that possible?

Or...would the little one have his deformity? Would it even inherit the combined heaven that was their voices intertwined? Erik sighed and sat in box five, hidden in the shadows, watching the new soprano practice. She was tolerable, not as good as any of his protegees, but far better than the horrible nightmare of Carlotta and Maria. She had a sweet voice. Jaquelin had made him swear to leave her be. Of course, he could never deny her anything. She knew where her limits were. But they were so alike in so many ways...they hardly ever wanted different things. Deep in his mind, he didn't really want the poor girl to be caught up in the spiralling horror that was the angel of music or the Phantom of the Opera, just like Jaquelin. He turned from the box, his brow creasing. They were practising _Faust_, one of Jaquelin's favourites. They would be returning any day...he could hardly stand it. The waiting clawed at him. Once or twice, he had confided in Madame Giry. The one time in his life, that he had needed someone to listen to his plight. She had sat and listened, nodding, and when he was finished, always gave the same advice:

" She will return soon." Sometimes Erik would throw himself into a rage. Demanding that she tell him HOW SOON! She would always sit quietly and endure.

Once Erik was back at his house, he shivered, the hollow feeling invading once more. He closed the door and made sure each room was at least above five degrees. The baby would have to be kept in the warmest room in the house: The one next to their bedroom. Jaquelin and Erik were completely at a loss when it came to explaining the perfect temperature in that one, unused room. He opened the door to it, and looked around. The room had been decorated with his personal style: A black crib and a small, wrought iron bed. The softest sheets of blood red and charcoal black adorning both. A tall mahogany wardrobe stood against the wall in the corner, and the room was softly lit with candelabras, securely fixed to the wall, out of reach of small hands. There was a dark Persian rug dominating the middle of the room, and a sheepskin lay in front of the bed, so that the first thing the child's feet would touch in the morning, would not be cold floor. He surveyed the room, the black silk canopy surrounding the headboard, the forest green porcelain vase on the vanity, filled with more of Jaquelin's dried roses. The vanity had no mirror, in case the child...had...it's father's face.

He left the room, closing the door gently after him. Erik walked down the chilled corridors, the cold somehow reaching him under all his layers...that cursed cold. He sat down in a dark velvet chair in the parlour, and poured himself a cup of cold tea. He banked the red coals that never seemed to give off heat, until it was a fire again. He stood before it, and stared into the flames. He closed his eyes when he saw his Jaquelin's gorgeous golden hair in the flickering fire.

" Why cwying?"

Erik's eyes snapped open, and his brow creased. He turned, his cape flaring out and covering his body. What he saw sitting in the chair both rendered him speechless, and filled him with such joy as a thousand people blessed with good fortune never felt.

A small child, not possibly older than three years old, sat curled up in the chair, gazing up at him with wide, crystalline blue eyes. He recognized those eyes...

The raven black ringlets, he did not recognize. He himself had blonde hair, like Jaquelin...ah, her father. Or possibly his...there was no way to be certain. The thing that filled him with glorious relief, was what would be, in time, the perfect angelic little heart-shaped face, nestled in the short curls. It was gazing up at him imperiously. The tiny girl was clothed in a pair of black tights and a loose, but lacy little confection of a dress in the colours of blood red and black. A little capelet was fasted at her throat, and scrunched in the chair behind her. Little glossy black shoes finished the perfect ensemble.

" You..."

Then, Erik let out a true sigh of relief, one that actually shook an expression of earnest from his brow. The warm touch, the curved body that he had so craved those past few years, met his own body.

" Her name is Evangeline" That voice. That perfect...sweet voice...

Jaquelin had approached him from behind, grasping his shoulders and burying her face into the strong span of his back. Erik smiled with the kind of sweet release that he hadn't felt for a long time...

" Jaquelin, you are the only one who can surprise me my dear." His voice resonated with the glory of his emotions.

" Maybe not."


	4. The Kiss

I HAVE NO EXCUSE FOR TAKING THIS LONG.

I'm sorry, but I've been really stressed and a bit depressed lately.

PLEASE FORGIIIIVE! And I love you all for your support and kind reviews!

**Erik:** Just let them read woman.

**Me:** Oh fine Erik...you're such an emotional mess.

**Erik:** good.

Wait what?

_" Hear it, feel it, secretly possess you..."_ - Erik

* * *

The tenants of the opera house noticed something strange, in the week leading up to their gala. The straining notes of their current production, Il Muto, could be heard echoing faintly in the halls. They were sweet, small, slightly haunting and more than a little bit frightening.

" That's a scale my love." Jaquelin said in a quiet voice to the small child. The little girl giggled and skimmed her fingers across the ivory keys. Erik was standing to the side, in the shadows, listening with overwhelming pride and happiness. He had no idea that such a thing in his life could bring such joy. His life had been one of quiet solitude, and until Jaquelin, it had been lonely. Now he could hardly escape the sound of laughter.

Part of Erik missed the mystery of his old life, but if Jaquelin was happy this way, then he was as well.

" Papa!"

Erik looked down, startled, and saw the little raven haired girl tugging at his trouser leg. He looked up, dumbfounded at Jaquelin, who laughed her chiming soprano laugh.

" Evangeline use your words my sweet." Evangeline peered up at her father, whom she was still getting used to. Jaquelin had regaled her with stories and descriptions, and had even drawn him for her many time over. Now that the little girl had met her father, she seemed enchanted.

" Papa, play for us?" Her enunciation was a thing of miracle. Jaquelin had tutored her, because even at so young an age, Evangeline was a prodigy in all pursuits. She excelled at her musical and verbal studies, and her first word had been a month before she turned a year old. She walked, but she was wobbly on her feet. The tenderness of infancy had not left her face, and she still required naps. But she was weaned, and enjoyed being by herself in her room sometimes. Jaquelin insisted that she inherited her beauty from her father, who bluntly denied this and left the room when she said it.

Cautiously, Erik bent down and swept Evangeline into his arms. She squealed with delight, and when he handed her carefully to her mother, she stared at him expectantly. Jaquelin herself was holding her breath. When he began to play a song he had composed for Jaquelin when she was still under his tutelage, She bit her lip and looked down, glancing up at him through her lashes. Erik took a moment to remember that day, they day when he had first played the song for her. Jaquelin was remembering the same day, but in a different light. It was the day that she realized that the feelings that were stirring inside her were not so innocent as she had thought them. It was the day that she realized that she could not marry Antoine, no matter how much it was expected of her, because she simply did not love him. Antoine had been the current patron of the theater when Jaquelin had first began staying there for extended periods of time.

Her father was still the owner of the opera house, but he never visited it, only took care of the fiscal or legal affairs. The more practical manager was a kind Italian man named Pucci. Erik and Jaquelin both liked him, because he obeyed the orders of the opera ghost and his mistress without question. Jaquelin knew for herself that he was extremely superstitious.

" My dear whatever shall we do with you?" Jaquelin enquired as Evangeline plunked out a solitary tune on the keys before her. Erik Smiled gently.

" Hide anything that may be dismantled or broken or maimed..." He looked up at his golden haired angel as she laughed heartily. Her blue eyes caught with his imperious green, just for a second, before she leaned in to kiss him. She remembered every time that first kiss, the one that had thrown them both into such an anguishing whirlwind of events that was their personal saga of love.

* * *

_-flashback-_

Curse her.

CURSE the damned woman who caused his heart to ache so once more. Her laughter followed him everywhere, her name mocked him from the woodwork.

Jaquelin. Jaquelin. Jaquelin.

" DAMN IT TO HELL!" He yelled into the bowels of the opera tunnel. Far above him, hand held tightly and politely by a stage hand, a beautiful girl of eighteen was being escorted along a wooden catwalk, far above the stage. She felt a shiver run down her spine, as her ears caught an echo from below.

" What was that?"

" The wind."

The sounds were always passed off so in her presence. The stage hands were forbidden to speak of or even mention anything that might have disconcerted her. Jaquelin was not supposed to know about the opera ghost.

" For the love of...Jaquelin! Be careful! You there, are you sure this thing is secure?"

Jaquelin's father was bumbling along behind her, shaking the wooden walkway with every step. Jaquelin knew that it was safe, in fact, she thought there was probably little that could be done to prevent her from venturing up there alone later. They were being shown the innards of the opera house, as the stage below was assembled.

" Yes sir, quite safe." Said the boy who held Jaquelin's dainty, gloved hand. Her father didn't believe him, and demanded that they be escorted to the stage and solid ground immediately. They supped that night at the house, in one of the inner conference rooms, and when Jaquelin rose to be excused, all the men stood to watch her go. She chewed her lip a little before moving towards her room. She had quickly tired from that boring affairs of businessmen, and wanted a try at those catwalks. She slipped into her bedroom and quickly shed herself of her jewelry and corset. She laced on her riding boots that would be better for climbing than her slippers.

She hadn't heard from her teacher in a few weeks, which stopped her in her tracks just then out of fear.

"...Oh..."

Suddenly, the walls started to move. They were moving inwards, like they were going to crush her. She had to run, run to the stage, run away from the fear that he had abandoned him...because he would never...never...

" Jaquelin."

She screamed and clung to the ladder to the catwalk above her. It took her a moment to recognize the glowing half-moon of white in the darkness that was a mask. Immediately, and inexplicably, she was flooded with a kind of peace, happiness, and joy. Relief.

" It's you. You haven't spoken to me in so long." She turned from him and stroked the rungs of the ladder before she seized them and started climbing. Erik started nervously when she started her ascension.

" I...had business to attend to." Erik said. He cursed himself for lying, something he had told her he would never do.

" Ah. Well...I thought I was improving so well, I needed no further instruction." She set her feet on the top level of the catwalk and started to cautiously pace the boards. She glanced at him over her shoulder with the knowing smile that struck him like lightning. Dark, sensual, mischievous lightning.

" Maestro."

She laughed and ran down the walk, Erik slowly following. She found a way down at the other end and slipped down the ladder, laughing as she looked back up at the dark catwalk. But when she turned to face forward he was standing right there. Towering over her, his eyes unreadable. Jaquelin felt a familiar feeling creep into her fingertips, making them tingle.

It was the same feeling she felt every time he got so close to her. She looked down, trying purposefully to avert her eyes, but she couldn't move back. She was frozen.

Jaquelin began to shake, then she felt a gloved finger on her chin. Something endearing he had only done once before, when she was feeling particularly horrified with herself after a performance disaster that hadn't been her fault. Eventually she couldn't help looking up to his gaze, her brilliant blue locking with his emerald. They made her frightened...she would loose herself with him, anger him, do something forward. But he did instead. Her phantom, her maestro, leaned forward and kissed her lips, his own far more gentle than she would have ever imagined. It lasted for a mere second, before he moved backward, looking horrified at himself for what he had just done.

Jaquelin could only feel lightheaded, unable to fully comprehend what had happened. Erik looked down, mouth moving wordlessly for a moment or two.

" I..."

It didn't last long, before in a rush of fabric, Jaquelin approached him and kissed him again, firmly pressing her lips against his, her hand caressing his masked face. He froze in shock, feeling the need in her actions, but only able to be awed by the absurd moment. Erik finally moved when her lips did the same, moulding to his. His hand rested on her waist, and he mirrored her motions by stroking the smooth skin of her cheek. He held back though, the anger and passion threatening to burst within him, until he had to break the kiss, stilling her hands. Jaquelin's eyes stayed closed for just long enough, just long enough for him to disappear from the stage, to disappear from the intensity of his yearning.

"NO!" She cried when he disappeared. She quickly clapped a hand to her mouth, sinking to her knees in a cloud of petticoats and lace.

" Please..."

* * *

Now, I'm going to do this by majority. The next chapter can be further memories of Jaquelin and Erik's, or more of the family.

?

love! R&R please!

~ Lady Of Chocolate


End file.
